


My Sister, Who is Eternal

by Masu_Trout



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, Horror, Pokedex Entry-Inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> These Pokémon are called the "Signpost for Wandering Spirits." Children holding them sometimes vanish. </i>
</p><p>A missing girl comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sister, Who is Eternal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookinguptales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookinguptales/gifts).



> Drifloon are so cool and so creepy-I couldn't not write something for this prompt!

I saw my sister again last night.

She was sitting in the branches of the oak tree where we used to play, the same age as she'd been the morning I last saw her. Her hair had been brushed smooth, her dress was perfect and whole, and she smiled without a care in the world as she beckoned me towards the window.

How could I not follow?

The latches were heavy and stiff. They shrieked as I wrenched them open. I couldn't hear her voice yet—the glass was still between us—but I could see the playfulness in her eyes as she clapped her hands over her ears.

 _Sister_ , I could imagine her saying, _You haven't been taking very good care of the house, have you?_

Or course not. I didn't care for this rotting old ruins; the reason I stayed in this house, long after everyone else had given up faith, after even my parents moved away, was simply to see her again. Now that she was here there was nothing else I needed it for. If she wanted I would torch the place, burn it down while she watched.

The window slid up painfully slowly—I had to pry at it with all my strength just to force it open a single inch. All the while I was screaming at myself: how could I have been so stupid? How could I not prepare for the thing I wanted most? 

_No._ I shut those thoughts down and forced my breathing to calm. She was here, and that was all that mattered.

Finally, I had shoved it open wide enough. I scrambled out the window and crawled onto the sloping roof. The shingles crumbled under my hands and knees as I made my way out, sending bits of dust and gravel tumbling to the ground below.

It was a long drop. I decided not to look down.

This section of roof seemed so much smaller than I remembered; as children, we had sat out here together, watching the sun set and the stars coming shimmering out. I had grown, though. There was just enough room for me, and barely even that—my knee stuck out in an odd, uncomfortable position.

My sister smiled at me. Her mouth moved, but either her voice was soft or the night was loud; I couldn't hear a thing.

“What?” I asked. “Come here and tell me!” 

The branches stretched so close to my window, closer than they ever had before. She would be close enough to reach, if only she would crawl out a little further.

She laughed and shook her head, beckoning me once more. The curled branches cast shadows across her form, but I could see her eyes gleaming from within the shadows.

 _Come to me,_ her outstretched arms seemed to say.

She'd always been the adventurous one, the one who went ahead without fear. This time, she wanted me to be the one to take a chance.

I stood carefully, clutching the frame of the window as I moved. The ground seemed even further below now—I could see a dizzying expanse of open air stretching out under my feet.

 _Breathe_ , I thought. In, out. No time to panic. Not when she was here.

The first step was deceptive—no matter how far out I reached, the branch seemed to be just too far for my foot to touch. I stretched further and further, gripping the windowsill with white-knuckled fingers.

My sister laughed once more and took one delicate step up the branch. Towards me. Her arms beckoned for me once again. _Come, come!_

My mouth was dry. My throat seemed to have closed up entirely. “I--”

She leaned out further and further. Each movement was almost impossibly graceful—she never looked down, never even questioned where each foot would go. Her body moved without hesitation through the tree.

My brave, brave sister was calling for me.

I swallowed. There was nothing for it. I would have to jump. 

I let go of the windowsill, pressing my trembling hands against my sides and clutching handfuls of my thin cotton pajamas. Just one leap was all it would take. One jump, and then I would see her again.

She saw my readiness and moved even closer, to the very edge of the tree. Her hands stretched out into the open air, ready to receive me. Bright moonlight shined down upon her.

And I saw—

I saw—

Dark, lace-like scars traced their way up and down my sister's arms in an intricate, overlapping pattern. Each mark was like a rope's burn, but far thinner—too thin to be wire, rope, or even thread. Only one creature could have left those scars on my sister's arms.

_That monster._

Thirty years ago, it had come to us on the breeze. It had looked like a bright and cheerful balloon—like something escaped from a circus or a carnival—with a cloud-shaped tuft on its head. It danced before us, cooing and crooning, brushing its heart-shaped tassels against our faces.

I had hesitated. I was afraid of our parents' anger, afraid to touch what wasn't mine.

But my sister—my brave, brave sister—had taken hold without fear.

She'd screamed and screamed and screamed, and when I'd tried to hold her the blood pouring from her wounds had dripped down onto me. Dried thick and tacky on me, so that when I finally found my way home my parents at first thought I was the one who had been hurt.

When I looked down now I could see it: my arms, still clinging to my sides, were lacerated and stripped to the bone the way hers had once been. Those thin tendrils crossed again and again over my skin, digging rapidly-filling trenches of blood.

I screamed, the way she had once screamed. High and wordless and terrified.

My sister scowled at me from her spot in the old oak tree and pulled her arms back into the shadows. The outline of her form faded as she made her way through the tangled branches, until all I could see was the gleaming of her bright blue eyes.

“Wait,” I begged, the words coming desperate between choked sobs. “Wait.”

White gleamed from the space between the branches as she smiled. A moment later, even that dropped away, and I was left with emptiness once more.

“No!” I screamed, nearly launching myself off the roof from sheer force of panic. The world swung dizzyingly below me, the wind rushed past me, and—

I woke up, standing on the windowsill, thirty feet above the ground. My arms were whole and undamaged. 

I was alone.

For a while I cried. Most of today passed by with me curled beneath my covers, my face pressed against one of my sister's old stuffed toys. It had been a dream. Or, more accurately, a nightmare. A particularly vivid night terror brought on by a bout of sleepwalking and my desire to see her again. 

I was ready to accept that. Perhaps, I thought, I would even be able to move on; having seen her once more, I could leave the miserable old house and the memories that choked me still.

Except.

An hour ago, I went out to the yard and checked the old oak tree. All around the trunk small footprints pressed into the damp ground. Littered farther out I found small chunks of bark knocked down from branches below. And, caught around the reaching fingers of a near-dead twig, there was a single golden hair.

My sister was here. I know it. And I know my sister better than I have known anyone else; no matter how weak and timid I am, she would never leave me behind. 

I sleep with the blinds open now. I've oiled the hinges and I leave the latches open. When she comes again, I'll be ready. 

I'll climb out the window and make the jump without hesitation.

I won't scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, [casskets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casskets/pseuds/casskets), for beta-ing this fic for me.


End file.
